


Precious Simple Problems

by LadyDrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, POV Sheriff Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out About Derek/Stiles Relationship, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 17:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10972392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: John finds out Stiles is sneaking around again and fears the worst. Turns out it's one of those beautifully simple problems, and he's gonna have agreattime solving it.





	Precious Simple Problems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SnazzyJazzyH](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnazzyJazzyH/gifts).



> This is a present for my dear Snazzy who's turning the big one-eight. So what better than a sterek fic about reaching that milestone. :P HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SNAZZY! You're a star! <3
> 
> Betaed by my best bro Rita. <3 (Sorry for ignoring the semi-colons, I just hate them so much, bro.)

John sighs heavily, as he hears the front door ease closed for the third time that week with the tiny tell-tale squeak of someone trying to make it _not_ squeak.

 

He'd thought they were past this.

 

After being brought in on the whole supernatural deal, John had been terrified, sure, but also silently relieved, because finally, _finally_ , he and Stiles could talk again. Like they used to. With Stiles rambling along, bluntly and honestly, about all the things going on in his life, and John listening and nodding and occasionally offering advice or input. Like a parent should.

 

It was a point of happiness for John to cling to in the midst of knowing his only child had been out there risking his life on a regular basis, thinking he couldn't tell John about it. Trying to protect him. It made John sick to his stomach.

 

And now it's starting again.

 

But this time, John isn't about to stand back and watch like he did last time, waiting for some piece of evidence to pop up to prove that his son _wasn't_ actually into something terrible. Of course, at the time, he'd worried about drugs or gangs – what few there are in Beacon Hills are no joke – and maybe he'd been afraid to actually look into it. How do you cope with the thought that your child might be a drug dealer? Or a murderer?

 

Knowing that Stiles _has_ committed murder is actually an easier thought to handle than John expected. Having all the information does that, apparently.

 

And the knowledge that there's hardly anything worse Stiles can throw at him is what makes John get out of bed with a groan in the middle of the night to go and confront his son about secrets. Again.

 

He feels zero shame about the amount of petty pleasure he takes in turning on the lights with dramatic flair, and watching Stiles flail and fall on his ass just as his foot hits the first step on the staircase.

 

”Heeeey, Daddy-o,” Stiles starts, but John is just not in the goddamn mood.

 

”I'm not even gonna ask if you know what time it is,” he says, feet thumping heavily on the stairs on his way to the kitchen. He needs coffee. Possibly with something alcoholic added to it.

 

Stiles scrambles to his feet with that all too familiar grin on his face that says he's ready to bullshit like his life depends on it. ”I do in fact know what time it is, father o' mine, and just wait until you hear why I had to stay out so late after curfew-”

 

”Are you trying to clickbait me?”

 

”Uhhh, no, but good career option right there, Dad, thanks, I'll look into that.”

 

There's more talking as John measures coffee grounds and starts the machine, but he doesn't listen. The tone of voice alone makes it clear Stiles is rambling to either stall for time or try and derail the conversation. John isn't having it tonight.

 

By the time the water has dribbled through the filter, Stiles is still talking, but he shuts up with a gratifying snap of his jaw as John turns around to face him. He must look grim.

 

_Good._

 

”So. Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna tell me why you've been out until three or four in the morning lately, and maybe, _maybe_ , if I like the answer, I won't ground you until you're forty.”

 

”You can't actually-”

 

”Stiles.”

 

It's blatantly obvious that Stiles is casting around for a lie, but the loud grinding of John's teeth apparently makes Stiles reconsider.

 

”Well. Uhm. See... the thing is. Uhm.”

 

This makes John's eyebrows go up, because when Stiles starts actually having to search for words, things must be serious. Fear rockets around in his chest, because what the hell could be worse than what they've already been through.

 

It's a long moment of Stiles fidgeting and John sipping his coffee with tense shoulders before any actual sentences are accomplished. ”You can't shoot him! Okay? I know it won't kill him, but you gotta promise me you're not gonna shoot him!”

 

”Who? Scott?” John asks, confused, because Scott should be infinitely more terrified of his _mother_.

 

”What, no! Derek!”

 

John snorts. ”Did he finally commit a murder I can pin on him?”

 

”Rude,” Stiles says, and John snorts again, because that's rich. ”And, no, but. Uhm. There might be an actual felony involved now.”

 

John's head starts hurting, thinking of all the paperwork in his future, and he rubs his forehead with a groan. ”Ugh, what did he do?”

 

”Uhm.” Stiles looks like he's about to vibrate out of his skin with how hard he's fidgeting, but John just waits him out. ”We're kinda dating.”

 

There's a sound not unlike the scratch of a record player as all of John's thought processes come to an abrupt halt, because _what_. ”Who's dating?” he asks, because he's coming up completely blank.

 

”Uhm. Me. And Derek. Together. Dating.”

 

The silence in the kitchen could most likely be sliced and served on a platter like a well done roast for how heavy it is, while John tries to process this information. ”You,” he says finally, voice ringing with disbelief, because what the actual hell. ”You, my seventeen year old son-”

 

”-for like a month and a half-”

 

”-is dating a twenty-four year old suspected felon, now _confirmed_ felon and werewolf?!”

 

Stiles makes several frustrated body movements, like he's dying to argue the matter but isn't quite sure how. ”Well, when you put it like that, it sounds-”

 

”Illegal,” John snarls, and feels his fingers sneak towards where his gun usually hangs on his belt. The movement isn't lost on Stiles, and he holds out his hands.

 

”Hey, now, Dad, I asked you not to shoot him!”

 

”I don't recall promising I wouldn't.” But then, suddenly, the reality of it all sinks in. ”Wait, lemme get this straight. No one's dead or injured?”

 

”Uhhh. No?” Stiles says, and the fact that it comes out as a question should probably be more disturbing than it is. But this is their lives now, so nothing is ever absolutely certain anymore when it comes to these things.

 

”No one's hurt or doing anything they don't want to?”

 

Stiles shakes his head so violently John almost laughs. Almost. ”No. Nope! Nuh uh, we're talking completely one hundred percent consensual dating here.”

 

”That's really it? That's why you've been sneaking around?”

 

”Uh. Yeah?”

 

That's it. That's all John can take, and he just manages to fumble his half-empty coffee mug onto the counter before he doubles over from laughter so hard his eyes water and his lungs hurt.

 

”Uhm. Dad?”

 

John just laughs more, because this is the best news he's gotten in something like three years. All the long nights of worrying what Stiles might be doing and who he might be doing it with, and all the helplessness of the sneaking and secrecy, and the steady, heartbreaking decline in trust between them, and this... this is what makes Stiles sneak in way after curfew. The hilarity of it all is mind-blowing.

 

”Oh, Son,” he hiccups, when he can finally draw a decent breath. ”Stiles, my ridiculous offspring... you are so thoroughly grounded right now, and you will stay grounded until your eighteenth birthday.”

 

Stiles drops his jaw from outrage. ”What?! No, you can't do that! What if the pack needs me?!”

 

”Oh, don't worry about that, you can still join in your _extracurricular activities_. You know why? Because I'm gonna call Derek Hale right now and explain to him that every time there's an issue, and I don't care how small, he'll be calling me first, and _I'll_ be deciding if they need you badly enough,” John explains, feeling so delightfully smug and justified in everything he could skip around the room.

 

”It's four in the morning!”

 

”Don't I know it,” John says darkly, and picks up the landline. ”His number, please.”

 

Stiles hands it over without much of a fight, though John doesn't miss the quickly tapped out text before his cellphone is back in his pocket. John hopes it says _run for your life_ or something similarly dramatic.

 

Derek sounds sleepy when he picks up the phone, but it's nothing short of glorious how fast he switches to being alert and quick to answer when he hears John's voice.

 

”So, Derek. I hear we have some things to discuss.”

 

”Yes, Sir.”

 

”Regarding my only child. Who is underage in the state of California.”

 

”Yes, Sir.”

 

”Which you are not.”

 

”No, Sir.”

 

”And as I'm sure you're also aware, that's a felony.”

 

”Sir, I swear I didn't mean to- we didn't- I never. Dating isn't a felony, and I wasn't gonna let it go further, I swear I wasn't, Sir,” Derek babbles, and John leans back against the counter, enjoying every word like it's Christmas come early. ”But he- and we- and it's not like- I'm... we're...”

 

John can practically hear Derek squirming on the other end of the line and finally decides to show a little mercy. ”Derek, _breathe_. Whatever happened I'm sure it was Stiles' doing.”

 

”Hey!” Stiles sputters, but John ignores him. Despite everything he does know his own kid, thank you very much.

 

”That isn't to say I approve of it, and it stops right now. I've grounded Stiles for the next five weeks, and if I get even the slightest suspicion that anything goes beyond a PG rating before Stiles turns eighteen I will not hesitate to slap the cuffs on you. Understand?”

 

”Yes, Sir,” Derek says meekly. ”And if you don't, I'll probably turn myself in. I didn't mean-”

 

”I know, Son,” he says, taking pity on the poor kid. Because Derek is still young, probably a lot younger in reality than his years imply, considering how much growing he had to do in such a short goddamn time after all the loss. ”And I'm not cutting you off completely. You can visit him here with the door wide open anytime I'm home, but if you need him for pack purposes you ask me first, and if at all possible, I'm coming along.”

 

”Yes, Sir.”

 

There's not much else to say, but John isn't ready to end the fun, and now is a golden opportunity. ”Say, weren't you the one cautioning Scott against Allison because of his age?”

 

The silence that follows is absolutely brilliant, and John soaks it up.

 

”Scott was sixteen,” Derek says finally, though it's clear from his voice that he doesn't consider the distinction worth much either. ”And... yes, I did that. And before you say anything, yes, I've had to rethink that attitude.”

 

”Sucks, doesn't it.”

 

”Yes. Sir.” Derek sounds miserable, and John sighs. He's reached the end of his fun.

 

”I'm yanking your chain, Son. I'm sorry, it was a cheap blow.”

 

Derek sighs down the line. ”Yeah, it was. But... you're allowed. Stiles is your child. And I should have known better.”

 

”Yes, you should have. But if you play by my rules for the next few weeks, I'd say we're about equal. Agreed?”

 

”Agreed.”

 

”Oh, and you're coming to dinner as soon as possible.”

 

There's an audible gulp on the other end, which makes John grin to himself. Clearly he's got more fun coming.

 

”Of course, Sir.”

 

”Great! I'll see you Sunday, then?”

 

”Sure. Yes. I'll... bring something?”

 

”If you want to. See you then!” John says cheerfully, and hangs up. He turns to Stiles who looks torn between worry and disbelief. ”So. I'd say it's time you and I got some sleep. We should probably go for groceries tomorrow if we're having a guest for dinner on Sunday, wouldn't you agree?”

 

”Yeah, yes. I mean, yeah, sure.”

 

”I'm thinking red meat,” John muses as he turns towards the stairs. ”Maybe I'll ask Derek to bring a pie.”

 

Stiles glares at him. ”Dad, come on-”

 

”Do you wanna talk about condoms?”

 

It's beautiful how Stiles nearly swallows his tongue, and John shakes his head fondly as he starts going upstairs, Stiles meekly on his heels. At the top of the stairs he pauses and turns to face Stiles again. ”Speaking of which, though-”

 

Stiles holds up his hands like he bracing for a body-slam. ”Yikes, no, Dad, we're not talking about this. Nothing happened that would require that talk. No actual...” he makes some vague back and forth hand gestures, and John has to force himself not to laugh.

 

”You know, Son, if you can't talk about it, maybe you shouldn't-”

 

”I'll more than happily talk about it with whoever I'll actually be having sex with. You, on the other hand, no. Nope, nope, nope! Once was enough for a lifetime.”

 

”If you need a refresher-”

 

”Noooooooooope!” Stiles whines all the way to his room where he slams the door behind him.

 

John has a little chuckle to himself in the dark hallway before going back to bed. It's gonna be a _great_ Sunday dinner.

 

**Extra:**

 

”Dude... you're not _actually_ calling my dad to ask permission for me to come over?!”

 

”Yes?” Derek says over the phone, like it's common sense. ”Those were his rules.”

 

Stiles groans. ”Oh, come on, what's he gonna do-”

 

”Arrest me. In case you forgot what we-”

 

”Oh, I'm not gonna forget that for a long time,” Stiles purrs into the phone, and Derek sighs, long-suffering.

 

”You're a menace.”

 

”You know it. But come on, Derek, barely anything happened. No clothes even came off!”

 

”I'm pretty sure that's not a distinction that's gonna matter in court,” he grumbles, and Stiles takes a moment to remind himself that Derek has gotten a really shitty deal.

 

”Okay, _fine_ , I won't push for it again until the magical eighteen.”

 

He can almost hear Derek smile over the damn phone, and even that hint of it makes his legs go gooey. ”Thank you.”

 

”Dad's not gonna arrest you, though. Pretty sure he's gonna adopt you instead.”

 

”Only because I agree with him on his rules.”

 

Stiles hopes Derek can feel the stink-eye through the phone. ”It better be just that, because if I find out you sneak him snacks...”

 

”Don't worry, I won't.”

 

”... okay, fine, I'll take your word for it.”

 

”Wow. Look how far we've come,” Derek says flatly, but despite the joke Stiles can tell he means it.

 

”Yeah, yeah, I'm hanging up now so you can butter up your in-law.”

 

”Woah, he's not-”

 

Stiles hangs up with a grin. Derek might resist, but Stiles is gonna get his man, so he might as well get used to calling the Sheriff his father-in-law. It's only a matter of time. Stiles is great at five year plans, after all.

 

End.

 

 


End file.
